


A Conflict of Interest

by cactustipper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, takes place after canon endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactustipper/pseuds/cactustipper
Summary: Everyone has been worried for Chrom since Robin disappeared three years ago, especially his loving wife Sumia.When Robin finally comes home, Chrom is overjoyed. But soon, he can't decide whether this is a good thing or not.





	1. War and Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beginning to rewrite this finally omg
> 
> also future kids have disappeared bc their time was destroyed

 

In some ways, they aren't all that different; peace and war.

The scars of war don't magically go away. Towns aren't rebuilt the next morning, and burnt fields still need revival. People don't come back to life.

No one forgets, whether it be that their home was destroyed, or perhaps the pay their work once provided, or maybe even what their enemies have wreaked upon them.

Soldiers don't come home, and if they do, they're broken beyond repair, whether it be physically or mentally. Too often, both.

Regardless of the state of affairs, there are always cruel people that slip between the cracks and walk away unpunished. Fortunately, that can go for good people as well. Sadly, it's one of the things that is forgotten.

  

In other ways, war and peace couldn't be any more polar opposites. Especially for Chrom.

Rich and trapped? Or poor and free?

There was one point he had both. When his dearest friend had come into his life, before his sister had been murdered. How naïve he was, looking back, to think Emmeryn would rule forever, and he could just roam the countryside all his life, without a care in the world, leading his ragtag band he called an army. That his friends and family could never be touched. That he was invincible.

 

It felt ironic, that he was happier during war, and sadder during peace.

How he gazes upon his family, wishing it wasn't incomplete. Wishing a piece of his heart wasn't missing.

Sumia is supportive, enough for him to keep dragging himself along. It astounds him how she perseveres, when he's so mentally absent most days. Chrom tries to reciprocate as much as he can, but it's never anywhere near enough. She just excuses it and clasps his hand between hers, until his fist unclenches and his knuckles regain color.

 

Lucina often trails after him. His young daughter craves whatever attention she could claim even with the cloud that perpetually hangs over Chrom's head.

 

He's lucky Cynthia's even younger, and couldn't miss him as much as her sister did. However, he notices she whimpers whenever he leaves after a short visit, even after the door shuts.

 

 

 

"I met with the council this morning at their request."

"I pray it went well," Chrom says distractedly, scanning the world map laid out in front of him. He wonders if Robin may have been lost, and the Exalt only had yet to find him.

Frederick nods. "Yes, milord. After discussing trivial matters, they hoped for me to persuade milord to consider attending weekly meetings with a specialist versed in mental ailments—"  
   
_"No."_ He forces his tone to remain even and gives a polite smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Frederick?"  
   
"…There's already been an appointment arranged, by the council." When the Exalt frowns, the knight adds, "They've sent for the best doctor in the country. I can't say I disagree with the notion of finding milord ease of mind."

"And if I don't attend?"

Frederick sighs. "I didn't want to inform you, but it'll be ordered that you can't leave the castle without the council's permission."

Chrom's stomach flips at the unstated meaning behind those words; _'you can't go look for Robin.'_

"I'll attend."

 

"Do you want me to stay here?" Sumia asks in their chambers. The doctor the royal council had called for was to arrive any moment.

"What, and see me make a fool of myself?"

She tilts her head to the side. "I think this could do you some good, Chrom."

He lets out a snort. "So would Robin coming back."

"I know."

Her tone prompts him to meet her eyes. "You don't think he's coming back." It's not a question, but rather a statement.

"We all want him home," Sumia says softly, "but you don't think about anything else these days. You need to focus on the present, for your own good. Moping won't bring him home."

 

 

 

Chrom flies up into a sitting position, the noise of his labored breathing filling the room. The image of Robin's body being torn apart by massive jaws still dances behind his eyes, and he can't suppress the shudder that makes its way down his spine.

He runs to the bathroom and wretches violently into the toilet, unable to stop his body from shaking.  
   
Sumia's eyes are open now, her lips creased in a grimace. He wants to cry but can't, he hasn't been able to in months, and collapses back into the mattress.

She puts an arm around his shoulders in an offer of comfort, but he turns away from her to stare at his nightstand, the feeling of his dream still lingering.

 

At some point in the night, Chrom can't lay restless in his bed any longer, knowing it'll drive him insane and his rolling around will take away from Sumia's sleep.

He gets up and leaves the room, not with a set destination in mind, but within seconds, his feet take him down the hall to Robin's room.

Chrom freezes; it had been left untouched since Robin's death— _no,_ the Exalt corrects himself, _Robin's…departure._ Chrom hasn't permitted anyone to enter his quarters, not even himself.

Unsteadily, he reaches for the knob and rests his palm on it. He takes a moment to breathe before carefully turning it and pushing the door open, its hinges creaking in protest.

Chrom doesn't know what he's expecting, but he can't help the feeling of being let down that it's the same as it was left; minus the layers of dust that coats its furniture (despite the darkness, he can see it with the aid of the moonlight streaming through the window), and the tactician who remains absent.

He moves over to his friend's desk slowly, for fear that if he applies too much weight to the floor, it might break. Once reaching it, he gently takes one of the books from a stack neatly tucked to the corner of the desk, as well as lights the oil lantern in the other corner.

Chrom recognizes the worn, golden cover of the book immediately, and he ghosts his hand down the spine for a moment. He remembers when he took the book from Robin and held it above his head, just out of his shorter friend's reach, reading aloud the notes that filled the margins of each page to tease him.

It's a tactical book—Robin's favorite—nothing too personal like a diary or journal. He'd have to be heartless to make fun of Robin over something like that.

What makes the book so amusing to Chrom, are the kinds of notes Robin had taken. Many of them are sarcastic, or thoughtful, or seemingly off topic. So much of Robin's essence had been poured into that book, it was hard for Chrom not to love it nearly as much as he loved his friend.

He opens it to a random page, and it ends up on a page stained with coffee. Chrom had spilled it, before Robin frantically tried to clean it up and retrace the entries on the page.

Chrom smiles at it, and it occurs to him that it was on the same day they had found Morgan, Robin's future daughter.

The Exalt then lets out a yawn, his lack of sleep catching up with him. He glances at Robin's bed, then back down to the book. Chrom decides to close it and tuck it under his arm, then slips under the covers, holding the book securely against his chest.

 

The next morning, he's exhausted as he forces his eyelids open. Chrom rubs his eyes, dreading when he'll have to leave his friend's room to face the day.

Staring at the ceiling, he recalls the conversations he and Robin had leading up to the battle with Grima. How he and Robin had gone back and forth, back and forth about who would land the final blow.

Eventually Robin had promised to refrain. Chrom had been content with that, trusting his friend completely.

It was the first lie Robin had ever told him.

Chrom often wonders if it was intentional. If Robin had meant to deceive Chrom, or if he had changed his mind on the back of the Fell Dragon. Deep down, Chrom knows Robin had promised on purpose, reading Chrom like an open book and knowing he wouldn't be any the wiser.

He can't be mad. If Robin told the same lie to him the next day, he'd still readily believe his friend without question.

The Exalt had let himself down; one life versus millions of lives should've been the easiest question in his entire existence. And yet, whenever he thought about it after the fact, Chrom always answered wrong.

 

 

 

"What do I do?"

The catacombs of Ylisse's past royalty used to scare Chrom when he was younger, during the rare times his father spent time with he and his sisters. He'd take them down to see their mother's casket, then afterward, promptly returned to his duties.

Now Chrom sits criss-cross by the small fountain built in Emmeryn's likeness and honor. Her body was never found, and he hates the idea of the Grimleal having taken it.

He often consults her when feeling lost, even if he knows he can't speak with her directly. Usually something comes to Chrom that helps guide him; a night spent on the floor giggling with her and Lissa far past their bedtimes. Her asking Phila's thoughts during a council meeting. Him bringing her a cup of tea.

She's silent this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previous chapters deleted since im working through this again! thanks for the patience;;


	2. What Dreams We Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: explicit sexual content

 

Sumia suggests they have a date night. She says she wants to reward Chrom for seeing his doctor and making an effort to improve. He almost declines; he isn't choosing to see the specialist. He mostly ignores the doctor, nodding and pretending to follow along.

 

Lissa calls him an idiot and after slamming her fists against his arms, he _'decides'_ to reconsider. Despite war maturing her into a young woman (much too fast in Chrom's opinion), she's still his little sister.

 

 

 

Chrom and Sumia go out to a luxurious restaurant near the castle, where only the most pristine nobles dine and expert musical entertainment is live. Chrom isn't one for extravagance, but he knows his wife adores these types of things. And he can't say that the ice sculptures and fountains aren't beautiful.

   
   
After dinner, they go back to the castle and stumble drunkenly into the royal chambers, covering one another in hot, breathy kisses. It isn't often that Sumia drinks like this nor gets very erotic (not that it bothers him), but Chrom must admit the night has been much more enjoyable than he thought it'd be, and their mood had been just perfect.

 

He's losing himself against her lips, as she's tugging at the collar of his dress shirt and letting out small, adorable gasps. He feels his balance being seized as his lover pulls him down to land on top of her in the sheets of their bed.

Chrom's body presses against Sumia's, and he loves the softness of her pale, angelic skin. His veins are on fire as he's pulling her dress off, fumbling in the task as he's more focused on his tongue in her mouth and his thigh pushing her legs apart. She lets out puffy breaths against his mouth, encouraging him to work faster.

Desire is pooling in his groin, and once he drops his pants down just far enough, he pushes himself inside of her. The alcohol is making his mind fuzzy as he slowly thrusts in and out, earning him sweet, quiet moans in return. His vision is whirling as he continues, and his brain is melting from sensation, making his hips piston faster and faster.

"C-Chrom…" Sumia's voice reaches his ears.

 

It makes Chrom hesitate, he doesn't know _why_ , and it's snapping him out of his stupor. He looks at her face and he's suddenly aware of his heart hammering in his chest, and a sense of _dread_ replacing his arousal. He can't explain _why_ , and that _scares_ him, and he's pulling out before he can give it a second thought, stumbling backwards and catching himself on the dresser—

His wife's face is now twisting in confusion, and she moves into a sitting position. Worry coats her tone as she asks, "Is everything alright, honey?"  
   
He _needs_ to get away.

   
   
Chrom rushes to the bathroom and locks the door before sliding down and leaning against it, struggling to put his clothes back on. He feels like his heart is going to explode out of his ribcage at just how _wrong_ everything is suddenly feeling. He chokes as sobs try to make their way out of his throat.  
   
"Chrom? _Chrom!"_ Sumia is knocking on the door frantically.  
   
He doesn't mean to make her worry, he wants to tell her he's alright, but he isn't sure what's happening and all he can say is "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over.  
   
He hasn't broken down like this in months and it _hurts_ , "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry…"_  
   
"Sweetie, it's okay… it's gonna be okay…" she coos through the door, and it only makes Chrom cry harder.  
   
How can he move on, how can _anyone_ move on, pretending everything is normal when Robin _still_ isn't home? As if the tactician never had been; as if he _won't_ be coming back?

Chrom thinks of Robin's book still laying on the Exalt's nightstand. Out of what currently exists, he wishes it was in his arms.

 

 

 

As soon as Chrom opens his eyes, he's aware he's in a dream.

It's strange, however, as he can feel a warm, pleasant breeze and the grass beneath his bare feet. The full moon bathes the field in silver, and the stars above stretch across the sky, glittering white, purple, and blue, with splashes of every other color highlighting their presence. Marble ruins dot the meadow along with the source of a stream; he can hear the waterfall in the distance.

Chrom recognizes this place, it's the same place he performed the Awakening; Mount Prism.

 

A gust of wind behind him flings the loose areas of his clothes forward. He turns around and shields his eyes from the blinding light. After it passes, Naga takes its place, seemingly illuminating herself.

"Lady Naga?" Despite it being inappropriate, as the Goddess hasn't spoken yet, Chrom can't help his loose lips. "Is that really you?"

She doesn't appear to hear him, and she turns away to gaze at the moon. "I did not think it would be so soon."

The Exalt furrows his brows, unsure of what she means. He doesn't interrupt as she goes on.

"I did not believe it would happen within your lifetime, let alone it be within the realm of _possible."_

 _Is she talking about Grima?_ Chrom wonders. _But she's taken him down before with the First Exalt._   _What else could she mean? Did she not expect him to come back?_

"It required much of my strength, especially after all that has happened. But you humans are greater beings than one would think." Naga looks back at him, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Be brave, Awakener, and be true to your heart."

Then the image is gone, black covering Chrom's vision.

 


	3. The Bravery of 'Hello'

 

"Chrom?"

Sumia sits up in bed, rubbing at her eyes as the Exalt softly shuts the bathroom door behind him.

"Hi," he greets her, settling on the edge of the mattress. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all," she says, but it's much less convincing with the yawn that punctuates her sentence. Chrom imagines she's hungover; she's not used to drinking as much as she did. "You doing okay?"

"Better than last night," he laughs weakly. It dies out, and he's left in an awkward silence while his wife tries not to fall asleep sitting up. After a few moments, he says, "I'm… sorry about last night. I didn't mean to worry you and panic the way I did."

"I know you've been feeling weird, sweetie. I forgive you, so I don't want you to beat yourself up over it, okay? We still had a wonderful night."

Chrom smiles at her. "You're too kind," he says warmly, debating on whether or not to kiss her forehead. Ultimately, he doesn't, still unsure of what to make of his breakdown the night before. "…Get some more rest, okay?"

"You sure you don't want me to stay up?" Her eyelids are already drooping.

"I'm sure, thank you."

"Anything for you, Chrom," Sumia murmurs, sliding back under the covers. "I love you."

"…You too."

 

 

 

"I'm surprised to see you up so early," Chrom says as he prepares to make himself a cup of coffee. He adds enough water to the pan to make two cups, knowing Lissa most likely needs one as well.

"It's eleven in the morning."

He turns around, lifting an eyebrow at his sister. "You're kidding."

"Seriously," she says, resting her chin against her fist propped up on the counter. "I'm more shocked Sumia's not up. I guess that says something about your night, huh?" She gives him a wink.

Chrom faces towards the pan again to hide the blush that spreads across his face, adding coffee beans to the boiling water. "Think what you'd like."

Before his younger sibling can tease him any further, Frederick walks into the kitchen. "There you are, milord!"

"Good morning, Frederick." The Exalt sees the knight holding a steaming mug, and points his thumb to the now covered pan. "Sorry, beat you to it."

"At least Lady Sumia knows how to accept her station," the other man mutters, giving the cup to Lissa instead.

"You woke her up?"

Frederick doesn't seem fazed by this. "How else would I have let milady know her coffee was hot and fresh?"

Chrom lets out a sigh; he supposes the knight couldn't have known she needed her rest. Lissa lets out a giggle.

"Is something the matter, sire?"

"No, never mind," the Exalt says, moving on, "Do I have any meetings to attend today?"

"No, milord."

 

As soon as the coffee is finished, an idea begins to brew in his mind. It's been a long while since anyone has joined him to look for Robin, if his sister and life-long friend are free, Chrom would enjoy the company.

"Hey, doofus!"

Lissa's voice pushes him from his thoughts. "Huh?"

"We'll go with ya, okay?" she says with a grin, as if she read his mind. "Just stop standing there like an idiot seconds away from an accident."

Chrom looks down at the ladle in his hand, only a slight tilt away from the coffee missing his mug and pouring it on the floor. He purses his lips and sets the ladle back into the pan, resulting in laughter from Lissa, and Frederick shaking his head before leaving the room.

 

 

 

It's a beautiful day.

The sky is clear and the temperature is pleasant, with a nice little breeze that whirls around the Exalt, the princess, and the knight.

"You needn't do that," Chrom says. Frederick is ten feet ahead of he and his sister, clearing every last stick and pebble on the trail.

"It's essential to milord's and milady's safety," he replies simply. "So yes, I absolutely _need do that."_

Any other day, Chrom would give an exasperated sigh, but today he feels impossibly good, and instead just shakes his head with a smile.

"Some things don't change, do they?" Lissa says wistfully next to him.

Chrom looks at her, as if seeing her for the first time. Before the war with Plegia, she was about the height of the bottom of his ribcage, but now she's perhaps just below his collarbone. "You're… not a child anymore, are you?"

"Gods, Chrom, where have you been?" she smirks at him.

"Never mind, I take it back. You're a newborn."

"Whatever you say, pops."

 

He's about to give her a light punch in the arm, when a strange ident in the grass ahead of them catches his eye.

He tries to keep his gait the same pace, but his heart is thundering against his chest. _Don't get your hopes up,_ he thinks. _It's just the grass looks weird, nothing special._ In his peripherals, Chrom sees Lissa watching him, her lips pursed and her hands slightly raised, ready to grab onto him.

_"Chrom…"_

The single word detonates the bomb within him. It sets him off, and sends him sprinting across the field, approaching that same place where he, Lissa, and Frederick had first found Robin.

"Chrom! Wait!"

He's much too fast for her. It's not long before the burn of three years of peace is creeping into his legs and chest, but it takes no place in his mind, not when a blur of white, black, and purple is appearing within the long blades just meters ahead of him. He can't help the giddiness of the prospect of just _maybe…?_

 

It's only a few seconds before Chrom's slowing down, one yard away from the man on the ground. Despite being winded from his run, his breath still catches in his throat, as if releasing it will disturb the other man's peace. He carefully crouches down, just as he dimly hears Lissa and Frederick catching up behind him.

"Chrom… we have to do _something."_

He glances back at his sister. What did Lissa want him to do, carry the man back to town while he was still out cold? "What do you propose we do?"

"I… I dunno!"

 

A soft groan sounds, and Chrom whips his head back to the man, a loud _crack_ audible in the process. His dark eyelashes are fluttering open, and the Exalt feels tears coming. He has waited three long, hard years to see those dark brown eyes again.

"I see you're awake now," Chrom chokes out, fighting to keep his voice steady.

The man's pupils adjust to the sunlight behind the Exalt's figure, straining to focus on the scene taking place above him.

"Hey there," Lissa hums from over Chrom's shoulder.

"There're better places to take a nap than on the ground you know. Give me your hand." He offers the man his palm. The man locks his hand with Chrom's, and the Exalt notes the back of his hand lacking any deformity. No violet, no eyes.

Chrom tugs Robin to his feet and into his arms. The Exalt buries his face into the tactician's shoulder, holding his friend tightly as he tries to keep his sobs contained within his quaking body. Robin reciprocates the hug, and he's so warm, so real, Chrom still can't believe it. It's been so _long_.

Once managing to mostly pull himself together, Chrom lifts his head and leans back to look at Robin. His friend's cheeks are flushed, and lips are tight in a small smile. He must be barely holding his tears back as well, based on the glassiness in his eyes.

"Welcome back. It's over now."

"Thank you, Chrom."

Chrom holds Robin's gaze, trying to convey the strife that plagued him every day for three years. No words can properly describe how he felt, and it's the most important thing to him that his friend knows he was dearly missed, and not forgotten, _never_ forgotten. And Robin reads him with a sad smile, full of knowing as always.

The long moment is broken when Lissa's cheer cuts in. "Robin! Robin!" she cries, dashing forward and practically jumping into him.

"Hello to you too, Lissa," the tactician laughs, giving her a hug as well. Chrom notes it isn't nearly as long as the one he shared with him, and he doesn't know _why_ , but something within him is smug at the thought.

"It's good to have you back, Robin," Frederick says, and the Exalt catches an uncharacteristic half-smile from the knight.

"It's good to be back," Robin replies, exchanging a handshake with him.

 

 

 

Chrom feels renewed as he, Lissa, and Frederick escort Robin back to Ylisstol. He can't bring himself to remove the arm he holds his friend's shoulders with. He lets Robin believe it's because the tactician is feeling weak, but Chrom knows it's because he's afraid, afraid the universe might take Robin back if the Exalt doesn't hang on to him.

 

"The weather's perfect," Robin remarks as they walk. "Probably best I didn't wake up to a thunderstorm."

Chrom laughs. "If that happened on the day of your return, I would've taken it up with the heavens myself."

"I don't doubt it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Robin nods. "You know, you're more competent than one might think."

The words cause Chrom to recall his dream he had forgotten about up until this point. _But you humans are greater beings than one would think._ That's what Naga had said. He wonders if it were just a coincidental dream, or if perhaps it were something more. Chrom wasn't one to readily declare higher influence over a simple dream, but he didn't rule it out as a possibility. _It felt too real to be nothing,_ he thinks. _And she sent it to me just as Robin came back._ But what did that have to do with being brave? Was she warning him of something more, such as Grima returning despite what she had promised he and Robin, despite all of the sacrifices they had made?

 

"Are you alright?" The man in question's voice drags Chrom from his thoughts.

"Yes, just thinking," the Exalt says somewhat distractedly, then shifts his attention to his friend. "Really, I should be asking _you_ that."

"And you still haven't," Robin smirks at him.

"You just like the extra attention of pointing it out."

 _"Someone_  has to remind you."

"Fair enough," Chrom concedes. "So, how _are_ you then?"

"Sore, very sore," his friend admits. "I feel as if I've had a long night and have been in one position, unable to stretch."

"Do you need us to stop?"

Robin shakes his head. "No, I'll be okay. I just want to get back to Ylisstol."

"Me too." 

They continue on in a comfortable silence, listening to birds sing about what a perfect day it is; Chrom finds it fitting, as it truly _is_ special. He hopes he can convey that to Robin, how grateful he is to have him back.

 

Soon the small party passes by Southtown, and Chrom hears Robin whisper, _"Gods…"_ under his breath.

"What?" the Exalt asks.

"Chrom… how long was I out?"

He realizes Southtown was still somewhat war-torn before Robin had disappeared. Now, it stands as tall as ever, lively and beautiful, as if nothing had ever happened.

Robin locks eyes with him, and Chrom can't evade the question with his friend looking at him like that. _He'll learn it eventually whether you want him to or not. Best he hears it from you._

"Three—three years," Chrom swallows, looking toward the trail again.

"And the future children?" he continues, shifting his eyes forward as well.

"…Their time no longer exists. They disappeared shortly after you did."

Robin furrows his brow. It's times like these that Chrom wishes he could read Robin as well as Robin can read him.

"If you're thinking about Morgan," he tries, "then knowing about her existence must assure her being born eventually, right?"

"Yes, maybe so," Robin says. Chrom knows Robin wasn't in any relationship before he disappeared, so he figures that's why his friend doubts Morgan being born in their time. Robin's such a nice person, he's smart, he's funny, and a genuine joy to be around, Chrom believes Robin can get any girl he wanted.

He wonders what his friend's wife would be like. It almost… doesn't _feel_ right, so he clears his thoughts, focusing on supporting Robin's body weight beside him.

 


	4. All About Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes chrom ask the dude with chronic bed head for help with your hair

 

It had been a month since Robin's return. Immediately after the tactician was back, Chrom had ordered for a celebration to be planned, and invitations were sent at once to the previous members of the Shepherds during the war.

 

The first week, Chrom refused to take his eyes off of Robin, especially with his friend having remained in bed for the majority of that week, attempting to regain his energy from being brought back into existence. Chrom insisted on attending each of Robin's needs himself, and if he couldn't get out of his necessary duties, he ordered only Sumia, Frederick, and Lissa being allowed to look after him in the meantime.

The second week, Robin was feeling strong enough to move around the castle, but standing too long left him light-headed. Migraines would come if he over-exerted himself. Chrom was still hesitant to leave his side, but could reluctantly leave him on his own or with former Shepherds.

The third week, the tactician tried to go back to his ruthless work schedule, however, instead of planning and strategy, he took to record keeping and helping Chrom with the Halidom's bookwork. While Chrom didn't condone this, he recognized that at least Robin was feeling back to normal.

The forth week was committed to party planning, and it was finally the night of the festivities.

 

"Think you can wear this correctly for the whole night?" Sumia asks with a giggle, tucking in the cravat around her husband's neck.

"I'm not a child," Chrom pouts playfully in the mirror. "How hard is it to wear an over-sized kerchief, anyways?"

"You'll find a way to make a mess of yourself," she says, finishing and running her hands down his arms. They linger a second, before she drops them entirely. He turns to her, sensing a change in mood.

"Is everything alright?"

She blinks. "Don't fuss over me, dear. We can talk about it later, so we can enjoy to tonight to the fullest."

"Are you sure?"

Sumia nods and gives him a smile. "Yes, it may be nothing anyways." Before he can begin to think about what this means, she says, "I'm going to check in with Lucina's and Cynthia's nurse before heading down to the ballroom."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"It wouldn't do for the Exalt to keep his people waiting. I can walk with Cordelia, Miriel, and Sully." She reaches up to cup his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you in a bit."

Sumia exits the room, and Chrom faces the mirror again, considering what she could be worrying about. The knocking that sounds a few minutes later draws him from his thoughts.

 

"Come in," he calls, leaving the bathroom. Robin is just closing the door behind him when Chrom enters the bedroom. He can't help but admire how dashing his friend looks; he's in a pitch-black unbuttoned suit with gold accents along the lapels and the ends of the sleeves, and he wears a simple, dark purple dress shirt underneath that's more red than blue.

"Looking sharp," Chrom says, before he stares too long.

"You don't look half-bad yourself."

"Is something going on? Or are you just here to show off?"

"People kept visiting me in my room," Robin says wryly, "which is what I thought the party was for."

"So you're hiding in here?"

Robin does his best to make a 'this is serious' face, but Chrom only laughs, resulting in his friend's lips rising into an unwilling smile.

"Be quiet," Robin chuckles, giving up his façade.

The two men enter a comfortable silence for a few minutes while Chrom returns to the bathroom and combs his hair, doing his best to contain the blue cowlicks that stick out. It isn't working, and he's about to ask Robin if he knows anything about styling, when he hears the tactician murmur from the doorway.

 

"You didn't have to do this all for me."

Chrom shifts to look at him, surprise causing him to forget completely about his hair. "Huh? Of course I did. All of the Shepherds wanted to hear about it as soon as you were back. You're a hero, Robin; you deserve _something_ to celebrate."

He slightly ducks away. "I did what anyone would've done," comes the automatic response.

"It isn't easy, sacrificing oneself," the Exalt replies, approaching him and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hell, I'm not sure _I_ could've done it. It terrifies me, the idea of having to leave you, Lissa, Frederick, Sumia… everyone."

Robin hums in response, and Chrom can tell something is on his mind. There isn't time before the party for him to enter a deep conversation with his friend, so Chrom just says, "Look, we can talk later once everything dies down. But for tonight, just try to relax and have fun, alright?"

The tactician stares blankly a moment, before lowering one brow and offering a half-smile. "…Alright. Thanks Chrom."

"So I'll see you at the party?"

"See you at the party," Robin agrees.

He squeezes the other man's shoulder reassuringly before dropping his hand. He watches his friend head for the door, looking back at Chrom for a moment after he turns the handle and pushes. Robin hovers, before shutting it behind him, leaving Chrom alone with his uncooperative hair.

 

 

 

"Wow," is all Robin can manage upon entering the main hall.

Massive ribbons of violet and gold adorn the pillars of the castle's interior. Servants, entertainers, and tables wear pure black, and ice sculptures of dragons and wyverns are lightly tinted with yellow, to appear as if they are golden statues. The music is undoubtably Plegian, characterized by the heavy focus of percussion and melodies in minor tones, while still managing not to be depressive. Dark mages use harmless magic as further decoration, creating the atmosphere of a pleasant, magical night in the desert.

"I presume that means you like it?" Chrom grins.

"You really went all out on this, didn't you?" Robin asks in awe.

"Not personally, but yes, effort was certainly applied. You've earned it one hundred times over."

Guests of every background chat and dance. The Exalt can see some nobles and common folk keeping to their respective groups, but plenty still intermingle, and Chrom is proud of the tone he's set during his reign.

 

"I wish I had held onto more of my culture," his friend says, his eyes still unsure of where to stop, as it's all so dazzling. "This is… amazing."

"If it's Plegia you're talking about, I can help."

Chrom jumps, even though Tharja is behind Robin, and he should've easily seen her. The tactician isn't surprised, however, and he turns to greet the mage.

"I thought I felt something familiar," he says, and to Chrom's surprise, gives her a hug. Robin typically held himself at a distance, and wasn't one for physical contact. _Something I thought was reserved for_ me, Chrom thinks with a twinge of jealousy. Then he catches himself. _Wait, why do_ I _care?_

"My lurking is out of practice," she says, giving the faintest of smiles. "It's been too long, dear Robin. Would you care to dance?"

"Oh, um?—" Robin gives a questioning glance to Chrom.

"Go ahead," he nods.

 

As his friend and Tharja make their way to the dance floor, Chrom decides to find Sumia, wondering if she was still checking on their children or not. He then spots her standing with Sully, Cordelia, and Miriel next to one of the buffet tables, and begins to cross the room towards them. It takes him a good few minutes just to get over there, what with being stopped by his subjects and guests. Not that he minded, of course, but it was a bit cumbersome nonetheless.

 

"Finally come to thank the party planning committee?" Sully chuckles once he approaches, slapping him on the back.

 _"Sully!"_ Sumia gasps, and Chrom can make out the color in her cheeks despite the dim lighting.

"Hey, _someone's_ gotta keep him in check."

"Admittance of graciousness is the proper social etiquette, is it not?" Miriel adds.

"Don't worry, Sumia. You did great," Chrom smiles at her. "And diligent work as always, Cordelia."

"Thank you, milord," the red-haired pegasus knight mumbles, looking away. He can never fathom why she's always so shy around him.

 

"Where's Robin?" Sumia asks.

"Yeah, surprised the squirt isn't latched onto ya." Cordelia punches Sully in the arm, then quickly glances at Sumia.

"H-huh?" Chrom is caught off guard. He isn't sure why; it's nothing to be embarrassed about.

"I believe she is intending to convey that in most instances," Miriel adjusts her glasses, "you and Robin are in each other's company."

"Yeah, no—I got that." He looks over his shoulder, but the crowd is too thick for him to see either Robin or Tharja. "Last I saw him, he was headed to the dance floor."

"Good, get your focus on something else for awhile," Sully says, shoving Sumia forward. She squeaks, and Chrom catches her inches from his chest.

"H-hi," his wife starts with a nervous laugh.

"Hi," he says, looking down at her as warmth creeps into his face.

"You kids have fun, y'hear?" the knight winks, then turns to Miriel and Cordelia. "C'mon ladies, these two have catching up to do."

The two other women begin walking once the knight nudges them, Cordelia seemingly scolding Sully while Miriel takes a long sip of her drink.

 

"I guess now's as good of a time as any to get in some dancing," Chrom says somewhat abashedly, taking Sumia's hand. She giggles as he leads her to the dance floor. Guests clear a path for the Exalt and the Queen, cheering for and smiling at the royal couple. Chrom even hears a wolf whistle, and Sumia covers her face.

Once arriving, he drops his hands to her waist in a practiced motion, and she rests hers against his chest, beaming up at him. Their feet move easily to the beat of the music, around the middle of a Plegian folk song if Chrom had to guess. He guides one of Sumia's hands above her head, giving her a twirl, with the black and pink ruffles of her skirt fanning out beautifully. Chrom goes to catch her before her typical clumsiness can return to her, dipping her down and lifting one of her legs, his face ending up inches from hers.

 

"Hi again," Sumia giggles at him, her breath tickling his lips.

"Seems I'm running into you a lot today," he murmurs back, conscious of her chest against his, then hoists her back to her feet.

Chrom spins the two of them one final time before the song ends, and he's suddenly aware of the audience around them. Sumia smiles shyly at the attention they've received, and on a playful impulse, Chrom pulls her in for a long kiss, causing the crowd to whoop and clap.

 

As they finish and the guests begin shifting their attention elsewhere, a new, slow song begins, and Chrom secures his hands to her waist, while Sumia wraps her arms around his neck.

Heat flows through his body as he begins to find her touch addicting, and he slightly moves himself closer to her. It's as if he's been deprived from this type of intimacy, and lets himself drift deeper into his desire.

"That was… _something,"_ she says, her cheeks red.

"Something good, I hope," he chuckles, touching his forehead to hers.

"Definitely. And Chrom?"

"Hm?"

"Your hands are a _little_ low for public."

He hadn't noticed them drifting down and around her hips, and quickly readjusts them to a safe place high up on her waist. She just laughs, and he silences it by pressing his lips against hers.

 

After they part, she whispers, "I'm surprised you're so close tonight."

"And why's that?" he mumbles distractedly, his focus on his mouth against her jaw, using the curtain of her hair as a shield against possible onlookers.

"I suppose conversations have been more guarded around you. I'll tell you later."

"M'kay."

 

She then pulls away from him, much to his disfavor. The heat immediately drains from his body, flickering out like a dying flame.

"The night's still young, I'd like to stay down here longer," Sumia says, correctly guessing his intentions. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Later, okay?"

 _"Fine,"_ he murmurs begrudgingly, but still happily accepts her kiss.

Sumia smiles at Chrom as they separate, then he exits the dance floor in search of Robin.

 

_"Chrom?"_

He turns, surprised. "Oh, hey again, Sully."

"Where's Sumia?"

"We just got finished dancing, I think she went to find you and the others," Chrom explains, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

She gives an exasperated groan, tilting her head back. "Chrom, what are you doin', dude?"

"What do you mean _'what am I doing'_? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Not that, _moron!"_ She adds, to herself, _"Men,_ I swear!"

"Then _what?"_ Chrom asks with bewilderment, not at all sure what the knight is getting worked up about.

"I'm gonna make this real simple, alright?" Sully says. "You gotta _treat_ her, if you want to _keep_ her."

 _"H-huh?"_ He's taken aback, completely forgetting the guests around them. "Wait, has she talked about someone else?"

 

"No, but she _might_ if you don't get your crap together!" she insists, smacking the back of her hand against her open palm. "Look, Chrom. You were real mopey when Robin was gone. No one's blaming you for that, especially not _Sumia,_ but it _has_ taken a toll on her. Now that the squirt's back, you gotta show her you're back to being her hubby, because I'll be _damned_ if you break that girl's heart. You understand?"

Chrom nods slowly, his lips pursed. It dawns on him how much he's drifted away from his wife. Sully's right, when he thinks about it; he had been somewhat aware of not giving her as much attention, but if he asked himself things like _When was the last time you did something together?_  or _When was the last time you said, 'I love you,'?_ or even _When was the last time we spent time with our kids together?,_ Chrom realizes how badly he comes up short.

"Does Sumia know you've said anything to me?"

"Not a word," the knight confirms.

"Okay, good. Thanks Sully, I appreciate the reality check."

Tension eases in her face. "Anytime, Chrom. You show her a good time, alright?"

"Yes, of course."

The knight pats his shoulder before moving to join Gaius, Stahl, and Lissa, while Chrom goes back to searching for Robin.

 

 _After I check on him, I'll go rejoin Sumia again,_ he thinks, pardoning himself as he walks past various guests, _then we can—_

His eyes stop on a reflective golden circlet set in black hair.

"Tharja!" Chrom calls, rushing over to the woman.

She turns to him, the scowl slightly lifting from her face. "What can I do for you, milord?" It hardly sounds like a question the way she phrases it.

"Where's Robin?"

Tharja frowns. "He went back to his room."

"What?" The need to protect swells within Chrom. "What happened?"

"You won't like it," she murmurs. He waits for a moment, but she doesn't go on.

 

He shoots past her, sprinting in the direction to Robin's room.

 


	5. Don't Say What You Don't Mean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex scene, not really required to read if you dont want to. just make sure you read the last couple sentences ;3

 

Chrom doesn't stop to catch his breath, and instead urgently begins knocking on the door.

"Robin? _Robin!"_

"One second, one second!" comes the response from inside.

 

Moments later, Robin opens the door (looking normal, much to Chrom's relief), dressed in his signature coat, and underneath, his sleepwear: a heavy, cotton, black, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of white braies that end at his knees.

"Gods, Chrom, one would think Grima himself had returned by your shouting alone," Robin says, rubbing at one of his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Why did you leave?" Chrom asks, disregarding his first sentence. Robin opens his mouth to brush the Exalt off, and knowing this, Chrom adds, "Tharja said I wasn't going to like it."

Robin sets his jaw for a second, before letting out a small sigh. "…You might as well come in." He turns away. "And shut the door behind you."

 

Chrom follows him in, eyes scanning the room for any hint as to what Tharja had warned him about. His friend's room is as tidy as ever, save for the suit and dress shirt draped over the chair at Robin's desk, but even then, he could tell it had still been placed with care. His eyes drift up to the stack of books on the desk, and he remembers something.

"I forgot to give your book back," Chrom blurts.

Robin looks at him, lifting an eyebrow. "What book?"

"Your favorite strategy book—the one with the gold cover," he explains, using his hands to indicate the size of it. "— _Agh_ , what's it called? 'Twisting Ties' or something?"

"'Turning Tables'?" Robin asks with amusement.

Chrom points. "Yeah, that one!"

"Why did you even have it in the first place?"

"I… well, I missed you while you were gone," the Exalt admits awkwardly, scratching behind his ear. "It was… _nice,_ having something that was so close to you."

Color lightly tints Robin's cheeks. _"Oh."_ He takes a moment to process it, then says, "Well… if you want to, you can hold onto it. I won't be needing it anytime soon."

 _"—No!"_ Chrom says a little too quickly. "I mean—no, I like it _because_ it's yours. I don't want to take it from you."

His friend gives a small smile. "Nonetheless, I'm in no rush to get it back."

"…Fair enough."

 

The two men stand in silence for a moment, Robin moving over to the dress clothes draped over the chair. Seeing they're not dirty and don't require any cleaning, he takes them to his closet and puts each garment on a hanger, before pushing the door shut.

Meanwhile, Chrom can't think of what to say about Robin leaving the party, but in the end, he doesn't have to, because his friend speaks first.

 

"I don't know if you did, but I heard things down there," he says, turning to make eye contact with the Exalt. "Things concerning _me."_

_I'm surprised you're so close tonight… I suppose conversations have been more guarded around you._

Sumia's words echo in his ears. _So_ that's _what she was talking about,_ he thinks, his gut twisting.

"I didn't," Chrom confirms, "but I believe it's easy to guess why lips wouldn't be so loose around me."

Robin nods numbly, looking down to his feet. "I… didn't believe I'd return."

"Return after… what happened? Why not?" Chrom asks, eyebrows furrowing. "I'll admit, my faith may have wavered at times over the past three years, but do you really think I'd ever have let you go?"

Robin stiffens. "It's not that, it's just…" he fumbles for words as he looks back up, his eyes rounded and shifting between Chrom's, searching for understanding. "I don't think… I belong in this world."

The Exalt is taken aback. "What does _that_ mean?"

His friend purses his lips, his expression conflicted. Finally, he speaks, and Chrom has to strain his ears to pick up each word. "It means I'm some type of reincarnate of Grima, and I should be dead. No human is ever meant to defy that, no matter what dragon wills otherwise."

"You surely don't think _I_ mind?" Chrom says gently, placing a hand on his shoulder and gazing at him intensely.

His friend shakes his head and turns away, shrugging Chrom's hand off. "You might not, but as a Plegian, Ylisse will, and evidently already _does_ —no matter how you present it, Chrom."

"Even if people would, who's to say you or I should care about that?"

"Because even _I_ doubt what I am," Robin's voice cracks, facing Chrom again with his hand on his heart. "And I _refuse_ to be the cause of tearing this country apart again."

"You never _were_ the cause," Chrom insists, frustration beginning to stir within him. "How could you _believe_ something like that?" _Are you denying all we've been through to prove otherwise?_ he wonders with a pang of sadness.

"Grima and I are one and the same. Don't you see what I've done? What I _am?_ Chrom, what if he's _back_ because of me?" Robin says quietly, his shoulders sagging, and he closes his eyes as he releases a deep breath. The Exalt can't stay mad, not when his friend looks so beaten. After a few long moments of debating on how to respond, Chrom steps forward, wrapping his arms around the tactician. His friend freezes before settling down, letting the Exalt hug him. He doesn't reciprocate out of dissociation, and Chrom can't help but compare Robin to a lifeless ragdoll.

 

"What I _do_ know," Chrom says softly, "is that you're my friend. And you sacrificed yourself to save the _world_ , and generations to come. Even if you never did anything beyond after I found you the first time, you were always enough for me."

"I can never be enough for everyone else. I think… it may be best… if I just… left."

Chrom's heart snaps. _"Don't say that."_

Robin backs out of his hold. "I don't like it either, but me staying here can't do any good."

 

Chrom locks eyes with him, rage and misery at the unfairness of it all swirling inside of him, threatening to burst out. "I _refuse_ to take that sitting down," he says, fighting to control his emotions. "Robin, all you've _ever_ done is _give_. You gave _everything_ to stay by my side, you gave _everything_ to win, and you gave _everything_ to defeat Grima. You deserve to do _something_ for yourself, _anything_ for yourself! You only have to _allow_ yourself to!"

 

The tactician's brown eyes dull, grief deep within them. With his next words, he sounds old, older than Tiki, older than Naga, older than it all when he says them. And tired. Oh, so tired. "What I want is out of my reach, no matter how much I could ever give."

 

Chrom thinks his heart breaks, with how _badly_ it makes his chest hurt. There's nothing else for him to say presently, for he knows once his friend's mind is made up on something, it's no easy task to sway him. "…I'm so sorry, Robin," he sighs, giving up. "Just… please don't do anything without telling me."

"…Will do," the tactician murmurs, turning away. "I think I'm going to get some sleep."

"…Okay. Take care of yourself, alright?"

 

He opens and shuts the door, leaving Chrom's body hollow as he walks back down the hall, and descends the stairs to rejoin the celebration. He tries silently to reassure Robin, as if he can reach out across empty air for his friend. His heart wants it to work, pleading with Robin longingly.

 

_Please don't leave me again._

 

 

 

"Whoa— _mmph!"_

Chrom yells out as Sumia practically tackles him, yet he somehow keeps his balance as he receives her, kissing him and even sticking her tongue into his mouth.

"There he is!" his wife then sings loudly into his ear, and he glances questioningly at Sully, Cordelia, and Miriel, sitting at the table behind Sumia.

"Don't look at _me,"_ Sully says, raising her hands innocently. "These lightweights can't handle one fuckin' glass of wine!"

"We're doing just fine, thank you very much," Cordelia raises her chin. "Right, Miriel?"

"I can hardly keep my thoughts in order," the mage says, a hand against her temple. "How do you manage this?"

"You don't," Sully deadpans. "That's the _point."_

"…Because it's _fun?"_

The knight laughs. "I didn't think you knew the meaning of the _word!"_

"Stop it, you're going to make her an alcoholic!" Sumia pouts, releasing Chrom.

"Hate to break it to you, but I think you're already there, Sumia," Cordelia puts in, earning a glare from her friend. Chrom can't help but compare his wife to a kitten trying to be menacing. A very, _very_ drunk kitten.

 

"How much has she had?" the Exalt asks.

"Enough," Sully says. "Honestly can't believe she's kept it all down."

"I'm f— _hic!_ —fine," Sumia insists unconvincingly, then presses her lips to Chrom's neck, fisting his cape and shirt to reveal his collarbone. "But not as fine as _you~_ "

Sully guffaws, Cordelia covers her mouth, and Miriel takes a sip of her drink, the corners of her lips tight.

"O- _kay,"_ he says, battling the embarrassment reddening his face. "I think it's bedtime for you."

"Only if you're there too~" Sumia hums, leaning against him.

"Y-yeah, alright," Chrom swallows. She doesn't seem she'll be able to walk very well, so he picks her up bridal-style, his jaw tightening when Sully whistles behind him.

 

 

 

On the way to their chambers, Sumia latches her mouth against his neck, sucking and nibbling his sensitive skin. Arousal stirs within him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want something to distract him from thinking about his conversation with Robin.

 

Once he reaches their bed, Chrom sets her down and discards his cape and cravat before joining her, sitting against the pillows by the headboard, spreading his legs and inviting her into his lap.

Sumia immediately scoots up onto him, hovering over the growing bulge in his pants to tease him. It works, as he digs his fingers into her hips, but she doesn't budge, instead picking up where she had left off earlier, and pressing her mouth against his, her tongue sliding against his bottom lip in request for permission to enter. He gladly accepts, tilting his head to the side to receive as much of her as possible.

Meanwhile, she runs her hands down his chest, his muscles twitching at her delicate fingers through his shirt. Sumia begins at his bottom button, pausing after every other to caress his abdomen. His hips involuntarily buck up and he lets out a moan, briefly making that sickeningly sweet contact with the wetness that's soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

She pulls away teasingly, and he nearly growls, wanting to expend the pent up energy that coils in the pit of his stomach.

 

"Someone's excited," she hums with a smirk, slipping her arms out of the straps of her dress.

"Only because of you," he replies lowly, watching hungrily as she moves her clothing down just far enough for her small, round breasts to spring out.

 

She smiles at Chrom as she returns to his lap, and he automatically grasps her tits, receiving a gasp from his wife in reply. He uses the opportunity to draw her forward, bringing her mouth to his so he can push his tongue back in. Her hands spread open his shirt, then her fingers curl around his pectorals with her thumbs finding his nipples, rubbing and flicking the hard nubs.

He rolls up into her again, and he can feel the lips of her pussy, despite the layers of clothing that remain in his way. They swallow each other's moans as they kiss, both of them intoxicated by the other's lust, spurring them on and further fanning the flames that bloom from their most sensitive parts.

Chrom loves how each kiss, each touch, each sound excites him more and more, and he can tell they're both losing their patience by the time she's begun a light, perpetual pant.

 

He helps Sumia shed her dress, lifting it over her head and sending it to the floor, before she undoes his fly, intentionally rubbing the tent in his pants with the inside of her thigh.

She lowers both his pants and boxers to his knees, releasing his erection, then uses her butt to grind against his rock-hard cock.

 

"I want you so _badly,"_ he murmurs, grabbing onto her ass and keeping his eyes locked with hers as he kicks off the rest of his clothes.

"Then take me," she whispers, placing her hands on his shoulders in preparation.

 

Chrom needs no more encouragement, and pushing aside her panties, he pulls her down onto his dick, groaning loudly at how easily he slides into the heat that is her pussy, while she lets out a scream of delight at being completely filled.

 _"Fuck,"_ he hisses through clenched teeth, then hoists her petite body up before bringing her back down hard and meaningfully, making her breasts bounce with the force.

 

"Ahah… _Chrom…"_ she moans, and his cock throbs in time with his thrusts, his balls smacking against the skin just below her ass. Nothing else takes place in his mind, his only thought being how amazing her body feels on top of his.

Sumia rides him, matching her pace with his and keeping it as he speeds up, him craving the wetness that envelops his cock. She's _addicting_ , how her fingers rub urgently at her clit, the noises he draws out of her, and her tilting her head back with lust. "S-so good… Sumia… Love your— _agh!"_

She's tightening around him, and he claws at her hips as Chrom tries to hold on, his mind melting from pleasure. "Getting— _ah!_ —close," she whimpers, arching her back. _"P-please_ , Chrom…"

"Tell me what you want," he huffs, the tension in his stomach coiling, threatening to snap at any moment.

"W-want _you,"_ she moans, her voice cracking. "Want your—cum, _a-ah!_ L-love you, Chrom!"

 

It's all over. The coil springs, and he grips her body down into his, burying his cock deep within her as his orgasm is set loose. White light blinds him as he cries out, hot cum erupting inside of her. She screams as his sperm fills her pussy, the excess not taking long to seep out onto Chrom's scrotum and down his ass. His dick pulses the whole way through, sending waves of pleasure throughout his entire body, and Sumia slumps over him, clutching at his biceps as she rides her own climax out, her voice falling from her lips brokenly at how _good_ it all feels.

 

Even after they both finish, they sit still for a few minutes, catching their breaths with their foreheads pressed together, their eyes lovingly trained on one another's. Finally, Sumia raises herself off of Chrom's softening cock, rolling to his side as he slides down the headboard, settling in the pillows while Sumia cuddles up to him, wrapping a leg around his.

 

"Thank you," she whispers.

He chuckles. "What for? You worked more than I did."

"Not that…" she says, her eyelids drooping. "'Preciate it… know you… love Robin… still so… sweet to me… regardless…" Sumia trails off as she loses consciousness, a light snore emitting from her moments later.

 

However, Chrom is now wide awake, and can only stare in shock while she drifts off, easily, and peacefully.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude.


End file.
